


I've Never Been To Me

by HazelDomain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Are you guys done yet, Attempt at Humor, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, But what are we, Cas doesn't know how to have sex, Dean Thinks He is Heterosexual, Feelings, Fuck Or Die, Gratuitous sarcasm, Incest, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, POV Dean, Sam Ships It, Sam comes out, Sam is sexiled, Threesome - M/M/M, Witch Curses, body switching, bordering on crack, destiel and wincestiel, non platonic snuggling, the author apologizes for nothing, well maybe not 'die'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-04 23:03:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6679003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelDomain/pseuds/HazelDomain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean hauled the emergency brake on that line of thought, keeping his face carefully expressionless as he boxed it up and packed it off to the Warehouse of Thoughts We Do Not Address. Because, yeah, “sex hair” was not how you described your best friend’s messy bed head, especially when said best friend was currently being possessed by your brother. <br/>And then? Then it got worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ever since Dick Roman there’s been this rule that when you kill something, you stand the _fuck_ back. It’s a good rule, as a matter of course, because it gets you out of the splash zone and you don’t have to do as much laundry, not to mention minimizing the risk of being sucked into a hell-adjacent nightmare realm for a year.

So with that rule in mind, it made the most sense to shoot her. Witches, for the most part, are just people, and people are vulnerable to bullets, usually. So, gun. It’s quick, it’s easy, it’s long-distance.

Only nobody gave Cas the memo, so while Sam was leveling his shotgun, Cas was lunging with the angel blade and Dean only had a split second to tackle him out of the way before Sam’s blast turned him into angel puree.

Dean’s tackled some stuff in his life, he’s used to the blunt collision that comes from flinging six feet of muscle into another person. It was probably just the shockwave from the slug flying an inch past his head, but it felt more like he fell _through_ Cas instead of into him. Before he could ponder it, though, the witch let out an earsplitting shriek and promptly exploded into a fine mist of viscera that they were going to be washing out of their hair for _weeks._

 _Fucking witches,_ Dean had time to think, and then there was a flash of light and he passed out.

 

When he woke up the first thing he thought was that he was dead, again, because he could see his own body and it was looking at him.

Only it was looking at him with visible relief and that’s not normally how he looked, when he was dead.

“Sam,” his body said, sighing with relief, and that was confusing because as far as he could tell, Sam wasn’t even in the _room._ He reached out, pressing his fingers to his body’s face with a little more force than he meant to. Apparently his vision was messed up because things were closer than they looked.

“Who are you?” he rasped, and his voice sounded wrong. His body frowned at him.

“You don’t remember me?” it asked, and then the moment was over because Castiel came stumbling into the room, clutching his head and looking decidedly un-angelic.

“Cas!” Dean groaned. “Cas, I think I’m dead.”

“No, you’re fine,” his body said, frowning at him in an oddly familiar way, and then Cas saw them on the ground and went suddenly pale.

“Dean?” he asked, and _his_ voice was weird too. “Is that you?”

“Yeah,” Dean rasped. He tried to sit up and his head felt heavy. He pressed his hand to his forehead and- what the fuck, is that _hair?_

“How long was I _out_?” he muttered, but no one was paying attention to him because his body was staring at Cas in a way Dean wasn’t sure he was comfortable with.

“I think we might have been hexed,” Cas said, and hell if he wasn’t pulling off Sam’s patented bitchface #22 and where _was_ Gigantor, anyway?

“Cas, did you see what happened to Sam?”

“I’m right here,” Cas said, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, gotcha, where’s _Sam_?”

“Right here,” Cas said again, slower. “I’m guessing you’re Cas?” he continued, addressing Dean’s body and the body blinked.

“Yes. I seem to have taken Dean’s vessel, but I’m not sure how.”

Dean looked down at his hands. His giant hands. He ran his fingers over his face, feeling the unfamiliar lines and planes of his skin. And then-

“Oh, sweet baby jesus” he groaned, clutching at handfuls of what he now recognized as his giant sister’s luxurious tresses.

“Easy on the goods,” Cas said, and Dean realized that if he was in Sam’s body then Sam must be in Castiel’s and that explained why _his_ body was more mobile than you would normally expect a corpse to be.

“Okay, new rule. When we gank a monster, we _stand the fuck back._ ”

He tried to glare at Cas while he said it, but Cas was staring innocently back at him and he realized that was Sam. He redirected his glare at Cas, but found himself somehow unable to stay angry at his own face.

 

 

The drive back to the bunker was weird, because Dean was driving but he was trying to do it with Sam’s gigantic legs and he kept mashing the pedals too hard. Sam- _Cas-_ was sitting in the passenger seat, and it was weird, because the first thing he’d done was strip off Castiel’s heavy coat and suit jacket. So every time Dean looked over at Sam, what he saw was Cas, leaning comfortably against the passenger door with his shirt sleeves rolled up and an easy smile on his face.

It was _weird._

 

The next two days in the bunker didn’t do much to improve the situation, because Dean had spent his whole life teasing his brother about his hair and his height but he’d never realized just how much of a _pain_ it was, to be that tall. He hit his head on things constantly and the hair? He was two minutes from taking the kitchen shears and chopping the whole stupid mess right off. Sam had no sympathy at all.

“You brush it, man. Like, twice a day.”

And, okay, that was easy for _Sam_ to say. He’d been parked in the bunker library since they’d gotten home, pausing occasionally for food and not much else and the whole time Cas’s side-spiked sex hair just kept getting _better._

Dean hauled the emergency brake on that line of thought, keeping his face carefully expressionless as he boxed it up and packed it off to the Warehouse of Thoughts We Do Not Address. Because, yeah, “sex hair” was not how you described your best friend’s messy bed head, _especially_ when said best friend was currently being possessed by your _brother._

And then? Then it got _worse_.

 

Dean didn’t think it could _get_ worse, because he’d just gotten out of the shower and he was still vaguely uncomfortable with the knowledge that he now knew what his brother’s morning wood looked like, and that just about buried the needle on the scale of things he never wanted to know.

Not to mention the fact that all the towels were laughably small on Sam’s giant body, and these were the good towels, the _home_ towels. Dean had to pause a moment and try to imagine how Sam dealt with tiny shitty motel towels, just in a _logistical_ sense.

Which lead to him thinking about how Sam was doing now in _Cas’s_ body, which lead to the mental image of Cas wearing nothing but a tiny little hotel towel, and hey, there’s another neat little box for the Warehouse. Dean tried not to think about how it was starting to look uncomfortably like the closing scene of Raiders in there.

 

So that’s why he was sitting in the stupid library chair in his brother’s stupid giant body and shifting slightly to try to get of his stupid confused inappropriate boner because Sam was saying something uncomfortable and apparently Castiel’s body decided that the topic was deserving of a _blush_.

His own body was sitting opposite him, doing that creepy-as-fuck thousand yard stare that Cas dropped into when he was concentrating. It wasn’t a good look, on Dean’s face. It looked much better on Cas, those piercing blue eyes-

“I’m sorry, we have to do _what?_ ”

Sam’s face got redder.

“So according to this book, the witch might have tried to use our life forces as a lifeline to keep her out of hell. Or maybe she was trying to drag us down with her- the point is, she yanked us out of our bodies and when we snapped back, we snapped into the wrong bodies.”

“So far so good, anything on how to snap us back?”

“Well, short of killing another witch and hoping for the best, we have to do another, uh… well, the theory is that our… spirits, or whatever… know where they’re supposed to be. And they want to go there. So we just need an exchange of, uh, _life,_ and that’ll make a passageway that they can travel across. Into the right body.”

Dean blinked.

“So, what, we need to be blood brothers? Blood’s alive, right?”

“… no. The book’s pretty specific on what constitutes a ‘life bringing fluid.’”

Dean fixed his brother with a steady gaze, choosing his next words very carefully.

“What. exactly. constitutes. a ‘ _life bringing fluid,_ ’ Sam.”

“Um…”

Sam’s face was red as a fire engine and it was _not_ cute, dammit, it was _not._

“Semen, would be the most obvious choice,” Castiel said with Dean’s mouth, and Dean had to go outside and sit in his car for a little while.

 

Sam and Cas were hashing out details, and god dammit, this was not a conversation that should ever have to happen between three dudes, ever.

“If we’re all in physical contact,” Sam was saying, “theoretically the first, uh… _release_ should trigger a mass migration and we should all end up where we need to be.”

“Nobody’s _releasing,_ ” Dean snapped, and the two of them stared at him solemnly until he started to get self-conscious.

“There’s gotta be another way,” he amended sullenly.

“I kinda don’t think there is, Dean,” Sam answered.

 

So, in the end, Sam offered to take one for the team, an expression which waited it’s entire life to describe this very scenario and could now be retired.

There was a muddled bit of non-versation about how it should all happen, and for once, Dean had to be grateful for Castiel’s habit of bluntly speaking his mind, because without his (disturbingly anatomically accurate) suggestions, the entire thing would have devolved into stuttering and inception-level metaphors, before eventually culminating in the mutual agreement that this whole ‘switched-body’ thing wasn’t so bad after all.

Fortunately they had Cas, which is how they ended up in Sam’s bed. Castiel sat at the head, his back against the headboard, and Dean wondered if there was some word like ‘deja-vu’ to describe the feeling of snuggling down into your own embrace.

Not that he was snuggling. And not that Cas was embracing him. He was sitting between Cas’s legs, his back to Cas’s chest, and Cas’s arms were wrapped around him in a purely utilitarian manner.

They were also utilitarianistically shirtless, because Sam thought that the more physical contact they had, the better.

Sam was in the middle of the room, very carefully not looking at them as he unbuttoned Cas’s shirt and slid it easily off Cas’s shoulders.

Dean looked at the ceiling, because it turned out Cas actually had some decent muscle under all those layers, and the muscle was joining the sex-hair in the list of Attributes Friends Do Not Notice About Friends.

Cas’s arms tensed slightly around him, just a quick reassuring squeeze and it was _not_ comforting. It was _not._

“You ready?” Sam asked him quietly, and what a ridiculous question because no, he was not ready to have his brother go down on him using his best friend’s body.

“One more,” he said, reaching for the handle of whiskey on the bedside table. Castiel caught his arm.

“You’re quite inebriated already. Excessive alcohol consumption can cause temporary erectile dysfunction.”

“Which is pretty much the opposite of what we’re aiming for, here,” Sam added in his weirdly gravelly voice. He still hadn’t moved toward the bed.

“Give me a break, you’ve got like fifteen gallons of blood.”

Sam frowned at him. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Okay, fine. Get over here and do this before I change my mind.”

 

He wasn’t sure of the etiquette of undressing under this circumstance, but fortunately, Sam picked up the slack for him, opening his jeans and reaching inside with more confidence than Dean thought he could muster, if their positions were reversed.

To make the situation even more awkward, Dean was soft as a marshmallow. He was in a room with two dudes, one of which was in his body and one of which was his brother.

He closed his eyes and tried to think of Ai Su-Hung, whose perky double-Ds had pried a Busty Asian Beauties membership fee out of him for the last three years running. He imagined the spread in the last magazine he’d picked up, miles and miles of gleaming olive skin, dusky rose nipples, and dark, spiky sex hair-

He froze. No, that wasn’t right, Ai had long hair, almost long enough to reach her perfect, pert little ass.

He focused on that, imagining the way it would feel under his hands as he kneaded and squeezed, trying not to pay any attention to the way he was slowly hardening in Sam’s hands.

Well technically Cas’s hands, and Cas had nice hands, as it turned out. Dean’s hands were rough, because that’s how hands get when you spend your time digging graves. When it came to his dick, he was used to one end of the spectrum or the other- soft and small or hard and calloused. Cas was neither- his hands were large and firm and Sam was working him with the kind of steady grip you only _really_ got from partners who know from experience that they weren’t going to break it.

He forced himself not to think about Sam, or Cas, or how warm and solid Cas felt behind him, or the way his hands subtly tightened around Dean’s arms when he felt the other man beginning to tense. He didn’t think about Cas’s thighs, pressed to the outside of his hips, and he _definitely_ didn’t think of how it would feel to have those thighs wrapped around him because seriously? Who the fuck fantasizes about banging their _own body_?

Sam’s blue eyes flicked up to meet his, and Dean realized he might have been staring. Staring absently. Gazing into space, really. Absently.

He nodded softly and if he hadn’t been watching Sam’s hands working his cock to full hardness, he _definitely_ wasn’t watching Sam lean down and take his dick into Castiel’s mouth.

Which, to be honest, was a little impressive on Sam’s part, because while Dean was the one reaping the benefits (ha!) of this exchange, the body was still Sam’s, and Sam was hung like a frigging barn beam. Dean could tell Sam was struggling with it a little bit, stretching his mouth obscenely wide around the head of his cock and swallowing it as deep as he could. It was still only about half, but Sam was still gripping the base, stroking what he couldn’t get into his mouth.

Dean wondered if Sam jerked off with both hands, because seriously? _Damn._

He’d told himself he wasn’t going to moan, because this was hard for all of them and there was no reason to make it any weirder than it had to be. That particular resolution went out the window after a little less than a minute, when Sam opened his throat and took another two inches. Dean groaned, his body relaxing as he focused on the tight, wet heat of Sam’s mouth, the undulating pressure of Sam’s throat tightening around him. His body was turning to putty against- well, his other body. He leaned his head back, trying to breathe normally and failing. Sam was bobbing down on him, alternating with long strokes of his fist, and Dean was so lost in it that he almost didn’t notice Castiel’s lips pressed to his bare throat.

And then as soon as he noticed that, he realized that Castiel was hardening underneath him, the long solid length of his cock unmistakable against Dean’s back.

“Ah, fuck,” he moaned, reaching up to fist his hands in Castiel’s hair, because this wasn’t part of the original plan. Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to care, turning to the side and pressing his lips against Castiel’s mouth. Cas’s hands wandered over his body, ghosting up the sides of his belly and tracing the line of his ribs.

“Sam, I’m gonna- oh _fuck-_ ” because Cas was pinching a nipple and Dean was coming in his brother’s mouth.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean is confused, Castiel wants their relationship defined, Sam is helpful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to mention in the last chapter- title taken from the opening credit song of [Priscilla Queen of the Desert](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=suzwaW_SqtU) where Hugo Weaving sings it in drag and then Guy Pearce wears a dress made of flip-flops and this is completely 100% true I swear to god.

 

 

 

Once again there was a feeling of falling, which didn’t make sense because the three of them were passed out in a pile on Sam’s bed. Dean felt like he was hurtling downwards which, he realized, made sense because his muscles had gone slack and he actually was falling.

“Whugh?” he managed, and then wrinkled his nose because his mouth tasted funny, bitter and salty like-

_Noooooooo…._

He’d fallen because he was on top and he was on top because he was now inside _Cas,_ in the body Sam had been occupying up until recently, meaning his head was now pillowed gently on Sam’s naked chest and-

Dean decided to feign unconsciousness until everyone else left.

“Geddoff,” Sam groaned, shoving his way out from between the other two men. “It worked, we can quit snuggling.”

“I’m still where I was,” Castiel said calmly, _too_ calmly for a man who was now facing the requirement for a _second_ homoerotic encounter.

Dean reached for the bottle again, because Castiel’s body was depressingly sober and he needed to remedy that immediately.

“You guys didn’t switch back?”

“That would appear to be the case.”

Dean took a long swig, letting the liquid burn the taste of cum out of his mouth.

Oh god and _there’s_ a sentence he never thought he’d have to say.

“Barn door’s open, Sam,” he grumbled, and Sam- god damn him- actually _laughed_ as he tucked his dick back into his pants.

“Well, now we know it works, but only between two people. Problem solved.”

Problem _not solved_.

“Except the part where Cas and I have to do the deed, now,” Dean grumbled. Castiel was staring at him in a slightly perplexed manner, and Dean didn’t really like how it looked on his face.

“It wasn’t so bad, was it? I’ve had worse,” Sam said easily, grabbing Cas by the shoulder and laying a kiss right on his cheek. Dean groaned.

“Really, Sam? Really? You’ve had worse?”

“Oh, hell yes. Remember that bartender in Philly, at the, fuck, what was it, that bar that was like, Apollo themed?”

Dean’s jaw dropped.

“The tall guy? With the tattoos? I didn’t even know you were… into…”

“Guys?” Sam supplied with a grin. Dean felt like he needed to sit down, which was ridiculous because he was already _laying_ down. On top of Cas, actually, now that he thought about it. He scrambled back.

“There’s a hundred percent too much weird in this room right now.”

“Well, it’s gonna get weirder because you and Cas still need to-” Sam mimed a blowjob and Dean wished the floor would just open up and swallow him.

“Shut up, Sam.”

“You want me to stay? Moral support or whatever?”

“Shut up, Sam.”

“Can I at least watch?”

“ _Shut up Sam._ ”

“Quit being so grouchy, this has been coming for years, the spell is just a catalyst.”

“ _SHUT UP SAM!_ ”

“I think maybe Dean and I should work this out on our own,” Castiel said quietly, and Sam sobered.

“Yeah. I’m just giving you shit. You guys, uh…” Sam looked from Dean’s mortified face to Castiel’s solemn one, and back. He clapped Cas on the shoulder. “You guys have fun.”

“Yeah,” Dean scoffed when Sam got up to go. “Yeah, this is gonna be _great._ ”

 

For a long time they just sat there. Dean was carefully avoiding looking at Cas, which meant he was doing things like looking at his hands, which backfired because they were Cas’s hands, now.

His body was staring at him with that sad, kicked-puppy look that he’d thought was an inherent feature of Cas’s facial structure, but apparently no, he could do it with Dean’s face too.

“I know this is uncomfortable for you,” Cas said after a while, and Dean scoffed because wasn’t _that_ understatement of the year.

“This is like watching porn in a room full of dudes, times a _thousand._ ”

Castiel shook his head.

“In general. I know that I make you uncomfortable. You differentiate very highly between people of different genders, and the fact that I have a male vessel makes our relationship difficult for you.”

And Dean might have made a little choking sound because Castiel was using the r-word. And he was saying it with Dean’s mouth and it was giving Dean the distinct and uncomfortable feeling that he was talking to himself.

“I chose Jimmy for a set of very specific reasons, but if I had known what I know now, I would have looked for a female.”

“Not sure it would have helped, Cas. As weird as it is, being in your body? At least I still have a dick.”

It was weirdly comforting, now that he thought about it. Whatever else was going on in his life, whatever he felt himself facing, at least he still had the good ol’ twig and berries. Well, maybe not _the_ , but _a_ twig and berries, and that was better than the alternative.

He shifted slightly, reassuring himself that the requisite pieces were all actually there, since it occurred to him that he had never actually _seen_ them and, yep. There they were. Present and accounted for.

He shifted again, because the first shift had thrown him off center, and then realized that the second shift was making his dick wake up and pay attention to the scenario. He shifted again, trying to make it settle down, but it seemed to have the opposite effect.

Dammit.

Cas was staring at him with a question in his wide green eyes.

“If you’d like your body back now, I’d be happy to do what Sam did.”

“No,” Dean said, a little too quickly, and then when he realized he’d said it too quickly- “When I switched with Sam there was this taste of like… spunk. That I could do without. So, um, maybe we figure something else out?”

“What do you suggest?” Castiel asked flatly and Dean rolled his eyes, running his hands through his thankfully-short-again hair.

“ _I_ don’t know, it’s not like I sit around thinking up the least awkward way for two straight guys to have sex!”

Castiel opened his mouth, paused, then shut it again.

“Yes, you’re an angel, I get it, I get it,” Dean groaned, pressing his fingers to his temples and trying to understand how his life came to be this way.

“Forgive me if this is an obvious question. But is this scenario- having sex with me- something you find inherently distasteful?”

Castiel almost sounded hurt, and Dean shook his head.

“It’s just not something that friends do, you know? There’s a line.”

Castiel frowned.

“The line between friends and lovers.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

“So I am in the ‘friend zone’ then.”

“No, that’s not what that- where did you even hear that?” Dean paused. “Actually, no, never mind. No, you’re not in the friend zone. But we’re friends and friends don’t have sex with each other.”

“Lovers have sex.”

“Yes.”

“I see.” Castiel nodded. “Your logic is going in circles.”

Dean did a double-take.

“What now?”

“I asked if having sex with me was distasteful. You didn’t say yes. You said we couldn’t have sex because we were friends, not lovers. And we are not lovers because we don’t have sex. So if we _were_ to have sex, as the situation seems to mandate, then we could _become_ lovers.”

Dean ran that through in his head a couple times, knowing it was wrong but not finding where the error was. But there had to be one, because he and Cas weren’t lovers, because that was ridiculous.

Though to be fair, it had been a pretty ridiculous kind of day.

Castiel was still talking.

“Unless the idea of sex with me _is_ distasteful and you were attempting to spare my feelings.” Castiel frowned. “In which case I may have made a social faux pas in pressing you too strongly for details instead of accepting your lie at face value.”

“You’re overthinking it, Cas.”

“So it is distasteful?”

“No.”

It was out before he realized he was planning to say it, and he started to backtrack but he wasn’t sure how to do it without being really, really fucking rude. And then the more he thought about it the more he thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad?

Because, as people went, Cas was alright. He broke the world a couple times, but who hadn’t, and anyway his heart was usually in the right place. And he was just sort of, cool to be around. Dean remembered the night at the brothel and almost started laughing again at the memory of Cas’s perplexed face. And there were days (oh yes, there were days) when he had a long drive ahead of him and Cas looked a hell of a lot more appealing than Sam.

“Are you okay?”

“Hold on, I think I’m having an epiphany.”

So that left the sex and the thing about sex, Dean realized, is that bad sex is kinda like bad pizza. It’s not _bad_ so much as just not _as good_ as your favorite. He was never, ever going to join the mile high club (he’d heard that some people got boners when they were terrified; he was not one of those people) but he was a part of the select group of people who could claim to have had sex with _someone else’s dick_ , and even _that_ had still been pretty good.

So it’s not like sex with Cas would be _bad,_ not like getting possessed by a demon or mauled by hellhounds was bad. It just might be, maybe, not _as good_ as sex with, say, Ai Su-Hung.

And it’s possible, in fact, might even be _likely_ , that sex with Cas might actually be good. It might be _really_ good because Cas wasn’t bad looking, for a dude, and he liked Dean so he’d probably be good in bed and this whole thing was his idea, so he probably wouldn’t pull any of that dead fish crap-

Klaxons were going off and Dean thought maybe he could hear the distant sound of Warehouse crates falling over and shattering open, but he wasn’t paying attention because he’d just realized something which might actually be very important.

“Cas, do you want to have sex with _me?_ ”

Dean did not know, and had never had reason to know, that when he blushed, his face turned pink all the way down to his collarbone.

Castiel’s face stayed carefully blank, but there was no covering that blush.

“I… had thought about it. Previously.”

“Good things?”

Cas wasn’t meeting his eyes.

“Cas, do you want to have sex with me?”

“I’ve wondered what it would be like to be your lover,” the angel said in a rush. “But I accept that my choice of vessel makes that impossible and I’ve moved on.”

“Well you’re in a super sexy vessel _now,_ ” Dean quipped, and then got nervous when Cas looked up at him with actual enthusiasm in his eyes.

“Yes, I’ve always thought so.”

Dean licked his lips. His mouth was suddenly very dry.

“So. Uh. How do you want to-?”

“That depends.”

“On what?” Dean said quietly. Cas was staring at him now, and he was leaning in a little, and Dean hadn’t realized how intense his face could look.

“What are we doing here?”

“Doing?” Dean echoed weakly. Castiel nodded, and _wow_ he was close.

“Are we doing this to get back into our bodies? Or are we becoming lovers? Because I believe the procedures might be different.”

“Yeah. A little.”

“So which one are we doing?”

“Uh.”

Words. Words. Dean knew thousands of them. Maybe even a million. One of them needed to fit this situation. He couldn’t be the first person to have this happen to them. He couldn’t.

Or maybe he fucking could, who knew.

“Okay. We try it. And if it doesn’t work, we stop and do the other thing and we never talk about it, okay?”

He stared at Cas, _daring_ him to understand what Dean was telling him.

“Okay,” Castiel replied, and Dean realized that Cas had no idea what he was agreeing to, but he’d agree anyway, if Dean was the one asking him.

Fuck, he was so gone.

So at this point they were just sitting next to each other on the edge of the bed, and okay, that was a good place to start, ‘get in the bedroom’ was like 90% of the game, so now they just had the easy part. ‘Easy’ being a relative term because now Dean was looking the situation over and trying to figure out the protocol for initiating sex with his _own body._

“Fuck it,” he muttered, and leaned forward.

Castiel’s mouth wasn’t shaped like his. He had- well, _strategy_ was the wrong word, but there was at least a _technique_ to the way he kissed, and the unfamiliar shape of his lips was throwing him off. It didn’t help that Cas was new at this, really new, ‘doesn’t know how to use tongue’ new.

“Close your eyes,” Dean said after the second abortive attempt to initiate a makeout session.

“Why?”

“One, because that’s what you do. Two? Because I feel like I’m macking a mirror, so just do it, okay?”

“I like watching you.”

“And- okay, and that’s great, but not during actual kissing. It’s weird seeing someone that close up.”

Castiel frowned.

“I rebuilt your body from the fetid remains of a decaying corpse, I have seen you from a good deal closer than this.”

Dean had opened his mouth to respond but found that his words had utterly failed him. There were so many things wrong with that statement. So many things.

This was a mistake. He couldn’t do this.

“Dean?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Just… close your eyes. Trust me?”

“Of course I do,” Castiel replied with 100% too much sincerity in his voice.

Cas closed his eyes, waiting patiently for Dean to make the next move and Dean was totally lost. For one, he’d never seen himself with his eyes closed and it was freaking him out. And now Cas was just _waiting_ like he expected Dean to know what to do.

Dean raised his hands to his face, feeling the unfamiliar shape of his jaw, his lips, his teeth- it was too weird.

He leaned forward again, keeping his mouth closed, just pressing onto to Castiel’s mouth. Soft and warm and easy.

He hadn’t kissed somebody like this since high school. Just the slow, steady pressure of lips on his.

He drew back, looking at Cas again.

“Can I open my eyes, now?” Cas asked, and Dean nodded before catching himself.

“Yeah.”

Castiel smiled at him, open and happy, and Dean realized that it had been a long time since he saw that expression on his own face.

“Was that better?”

Dean nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah it was.”

 

It didn’t happen in a flurry of passion. Dean was used to rushed hookups in semi-public places, two people trying to find an anonymous release in the fifteen minutes they could eke out before they were missed. He was used to multitasking, peeling the clothes off his partner while they returned the favor, pushing layers off and out of the way and keeping a careful eye on where they landed. In case he needed them back in a hurry.

It wasn’t like that, with Cas.

Cas kissed him slow, parting his lips just enough to let their tongues brush. It was repetitive, hypnotizing, almost, which was probably for the best because Dean wasn’t really in the mood to be in possession of all his faculties at the moment.

He left like he should be doing something with his hands, but he was hesitant to try anything, which was five kinds of dumb because it was _his body_ so he figured ‘fuck it’ and put his hands on Cas’s shoulders. His shoulders. Whatever.

And Cas returned the favor, putting his hands on Dean’s hips, only, then they just kinda _stayed_ there and they were just kind of awkwardly holding each other at arm’s length. Once again Dean found himself at the conclusion that this was a huge mistake and he was just about to call the whole thing off when Cas reached for the bottle on the nightstand and took a _huge_ gulp.

So, Cas was nervous, and that was a new development.

Dean gestured and Cas passed the bottle over. Dean took a swig and then another one, because in his experience, alcohol functioned best under the buddy system.

It occurred to him to wonder if Sam had any lube.

He handed the bottle back over to Cas, in favor of rummaging through Sam’s bedside drawer. Handgun, flask of holy water, silver knife, condoms.

… lube.

Dean stared at it for a long minute, the cogs in his head turning inexorably no matter how many wrenches and pipes and small explosives he tried to shove in their path.

He should shut the drawer. He should shut the drawer and forget everything he had seen and take the bottle out into the living room and resign himself to being Jimmy Novak, straight handsome devil that he was.

“Cas?”

“Dean.”

“I don’t know how to do this.”

“I was under the impression that you’d fornicated with a good many women. You’ve given me quite a few tips on the subject.”

“I didn’t love them.”

And maybe he should have phrased that differently.

Then again, maybe he said it exactly the way he meant to.

Cas set the bottle gently back onto the table, turning to face Dean.

“May I?”

Dean nodded.

Castiel hugged him. Just, grabbed him around the chest and pulled him close, until Dean’s body was flush with his. Dean buried his face in Cas’s shoulder, slipping his arms around Cas’s middle.

It felt different, holding someone who was so _big._ Not bad. Just different.

He let his hands roam over Cas’s back and sides and thighs, and it was easier somehow when they were this close and the angel wasn’t looking at him. It was easy enough that he was starting to get comfortable, and so was Cas, if the growing bulge in his jeans was anything to go by.

Dean had more than a passing familiarity with his own dick, so while the angle was different, the general technique was mostly the same. Palm to the shaft, press and stroke. Repeat.

Cas gasped, drawing in a ragged breath that Dean was surprised to find he _recognized._ So, that’s what he sounded like from the outside.

“Don’t go off in your jeans, that’ll kind of defeat the point.”

“If you intend to keep doing that, I’m not sure I’ll have a choice.”

Dean licked his lips.

“Better take them off then.”

The big reveal wasn’t when Cas stripped his pants and underwear off. Dean had seen himself naked a hundred thousand times. No big deal, really.

No, the _really_ interesting part was when _Dean_ stripped his clothes off, because that’s something he _hadn’t_ seen before. Though he hadn’t expected his first glimpse to be from this angle.

Not that he expected to have a first glance, or a second glance, or a lengthy examination-

And hey, it turned out that Cas actually had a nice dick, long and thick and kinda curved. Not that Dean had any kind of criteria for what he considered a nice dick, it was just kind of a universal aesthetic probably-

Cas manscaped, he hadn’t been expecting that, though technically Dean guessed it was probably Jimmy that had done the actual work- did Cas’s hair grow while he was in the vessel? Dean didn’t think so, he hadn’t seen it get any longer but maybe angels got haircuts-

Dean took his dick in his hand, moving it back and forth to get a closer look at the dark, clipped hair at the base, and yep, definitely manscaped. Dean was a little impressed, actually, because it was even all the way around and that was something he’d always struggled with, it always turned out longer on one side-

And now he’d been standing there silently staring at his own dick for what he realized was a weirdly long time, but when he looked back up at Cas, the angel was just watching him with a bemused smile.

It was an expression he recognized, at least.

“Does your hair grow?” Dean blurted, for lack of anything better to say.

“I don’t think so. Should it?”

“Never mind.”

It was cold in the room now that they were both just sort of _there,_ naked, staring at each other’s boners, and Dean decided there was no possible way this could get _more_ awkward so he should just roll with whatever popped into his head.

What popped into his head was that he should get under the blanket and so he did, gesturing for Cas to come with him. The angel lay down stiffly, on his side, staring at Dean wide-eyed from a couple inches away. Dean leaned toward him, reaching to embrace him again, and they ended up with their arms around each other and one of Dean’s legs over Cas’s hip. Just to help keep his balance, that’s all. And if that meant that his cock was slotting tightly into the crease of Cas’s thigh, well, so much the better.

He rocked his hips against Cas, listening for the low sounds the angel made in response. And it was actually pretty hot, not like Ai Su-Hung hot, but definitely at least _some_ kind of hot. Maybe he could do this after all.

“Are you guys almost done?”

“Oh my _god,_ Sam, _fuck off!_ ”

“Hey, you’re the one who decided to deflower an angel on _my bed,_ ” Sam argued, sticking his head through the door. “Seriously, are you almost done? I need my ipod.”

Dean buried his face in Castiel’s shoulder and wished fervently for death.

“Get your stupid ipod and get the hell out.”

Sam strode in and went straight for the bedside table, rummaging through the drawer that Dean was pretending he didn’t know the contents of.

“There’s condoms and stuff in here if you guys need them.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Castiel said politely and Dean groaned.

“Don’t encourage him, Cas.”

“What are you guys trying to do, anyway?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Castiel said, managing to pull off his patented look of confusion even with Dean’s face.

“None of your business,” Dean amended, though secretly he though Cas’s answer might be more accurate.

“Do you need help?”

“ _No!_ ” Dean shouted at the same time Castiel said “maybe,” and Dean silently conceded the point once again.

“Dean does not wish to engage in an additional act of oral sex,” Castiel explained. Sam grinned.

“So who’s sneaking in the backdoor, then?”

“You’re both dead to me,” Dean grumbled. He pressed his face into the pillow and waited for the sweet release of the Empty.

“Dean is still uncomfortable with the idea of a male partner, so I assume that I would be undertaking the receptive role,” Castiel explained, and Sam nodded.

“You’ll need this, then.”

Dean could hear him rummaging through the drawer and he realized that his brother and his angelic not-boyfriend were having an actual conversation about the technical intricacies of anal sex.

Dean swore that if he lived through this, he was never going near another witch for as long as he lived. Witches, as a whole, are getting a free pass.

To make the situation worse, the more he _listened_ to this conversation, the more his body was taking an interest. He turned his head slightly toward Sam, letting oxygen back into his lungs on a probationary basis.

“So I’ll ask again, do you guys need help?”

“…maybe,” Dean admitted grudgingly, because it turned out this whole thing was more complicated than he’d originally thought and he didn’t want to start the whole ‘are we lovers’ situation off by hurting Cas.

Sam climbed into bed next to them, still in his jeans and nothing else. He settled into the same corner that Castiel had previously occupied, gesturing for Cas to come sit by him,

“The most important thing is to stay relaxed,” he was telling Cas, but Dean wasn’t paying attention because he was distracted by the display being presented to him. Castiel settled easily against Sam, between his legs, all pale skin and freckles that seemed so familiar and yet so utterly foreign at the same time. Cas’s head was pillowed on Sam’s shoulder, his hands resting on Sam’s knees. Sam’s arms were around him, hands slipping between his legs and gently pulling his thighs apart.

Dean swallowed, because there’s _another_ part of himself he never expected to see. Castiel’s cock was almost fully hard, arching up over his stomach. His balls were pulled up tight against his body, putting the furled pink skin of his ass on display and Dean had the sudden, obvious thought of ‘ _I’m going to fuck him.’_

It wasn’t nearly as sobering as he feared, and when he glanced back up at Cas’s face, he recognized the look across his features.

“Lube, Dean,” Sam reminded him, snapping him back into reality. Dean stammered something nonsensical and retrieved the bottle from the nightstand. He let it drip over his fingers, cold and slick.

“Is that enough?”

Sam nodded and Dean capped the bottle, moving back across the bed to kneel between Cas’s legs. He studied the angel’s face for a moment and then leaned in for another kiss.

Cas tensed a little at the first feeling of Dean’s fingers, sliding wetly against his hole. Dean could hear Sam murmuring in his ear, urging him to relax.

“It’s cold,” Cas said weakly.

“It’ll warm up,” Sam told him, stroking the angel’s hair back and laying a kiss on his temple.

Dean circled the pad of his finger around Cas’s entrance, feeling the muscle relaxing under his touch. He looked up at Cas and Cas nodded.

The first finger went in easily, sliding into the tight heat of Castiel’s body with almost no resistance. Castiel moaned, his dick twitching and a bead of precome forming at the head.

Sam took over then, taking Cas’s cock into his hand, stroking him slow and easy.

“Keep going, Dean,” he told his brother without looking up.

“You want another one, Cas?”

“Yes,” Castiel whispered. His eyes were closed, his head turned toward Sam’s throat. His hands were fisted in the blankets and Dean realized that this was actually feeling _good_ to him, which is not what he had heard about anal sex, just as a rule.

He slid a second finger in beside the first, working them slowly in and out of Cas’s body. Cas yielded to him easily, letting him in when he pressed and holding him tight when he withdrew. The angel’s breath was coming in gasps and Dean was actually kind of looking forward to this, now.

He glanced at his dick, jutting hard and demanding from his unfamiliar groin.

“Told you,” Sam said with his most irritating grin.

“Shut up, bitch.”

“Time for lube, jerk.”

Dean licked his lips. Yeah, okay.

He popped the bottle back open, letting the cool liquid run down the length of his cock and trying really hard not to think about how this was the last step.

“You ready, Cas?”

Cas looked up at him, his green eyes wide and eager, and nodded.

Dean lined up against him, pulled back, readjusted, added more lube, got a pillow, told Sam to shut up, and lined up again. Much better.

Cas was staring at him, maybe in anticipation, maybe with something else, but he couldn’t look himself in the face while this happened.

He pressed his lips to Cas’s as he pushed in, slow and gentle as he could, mindful of the angel’s hiss of breath against his mouth.

“You okay?”

“ _More,_ ” Cas moaned and yeah, okay, he could do more. He pushed the rest of the way in and just waited, feeling the unfamiliar squeeze of Castiel’s body around his cock, hot and tight and _undulating._

Sam’s hands were still between them, holding Cas and stroking him gently. Reassuring him, almost. Cas’s hands were still bunched in the sheets. Dean leaned forward, bracing his hands against the headboard on either side of Sam’s shoulders, balancing his center of gravity as he rocked slowly into Castiel’s body.

Sam, to his credit, had the good graces not to make a comment, just stayed there, holding Castiel’s thighs apart and nuzzling gently against his shoulder. He glanced up at Dean at some point, blue eyes meeting green with a kind of affection that Dean didn’t think he’d seen before.

They inadvertently tested a theory, a few minutes later. Sam had originally speculated that an ejaculation without penetration might trigger the switch, but discarded it. When Cas came first, Dean paused, thinking he might be about to snap back into his own meatsuit; but no. The eyes staring up at him in dazed satisfaction were still green.

Dean came fast after that, the always-disorienting feeling of his orgasm pairing unpleasantly with the feeling of falling.  

 

 

When Dean woke up again, the first thing he saw was blue. It seemed odd because blue was a cold color, and Dean was warm, all over. He took stock, wiggling his fingers and toes and working his way up. His legs were wrapped around Cas. Cas was still inside him and – yeah, okay, he’d come back to that in a minute, content for the minute to mark the feeling down to ‘warm’ and not examine it too much closer. His belly was wet with come, and he realized that Sam’s arms were still around him, his brother’s breath hot on his ear.

“You okay?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. Cas?”

“I seem to be back in my vessel.”

And then there was silence. The thing to do- the appropriate thing- would be to scramble out from between the two of them, take a shower hot enough to remove the outer most layer of skin, and then drink until all of this was nothing but a fuzzy nightmare.

And he might do all those things. Later. But for right now- for right now, here felt good. Sandwiched in between two people he loved- and there’s different kinds of love, no need to examine that carefully right now- and feeling generally warm and sated and okay, a little drunk.

No one else moved and that was okay, because maybe they didn’t need to talk about this, not right now. There’d be time enough for that later.

Dean relaxed back against his brother.

Plenty of time to discuss it later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was supposed to be Destiel-y-er but Dean would not pull his head out of his ass so eventually Sam got tired of being sexiled and came back to help. 
> 
> Plus the original prompt specified a threesome, so, I guess this technically fits better. 
> 
> If Wincestiel is your jam may I take this opportunity to [shamelessly plug the video I made?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hCuo2G3pbwc)


End file.
